


Dandelion's Tales

by TheAlfanator



Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Action/Adventure, Fantasy, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-11
Updated: 2017-12-11
Packaged: 2019-02-13 14:52:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 9,742
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12986415
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheAlfanator/pseuds/TheAlfanator
Summary: This mini-series takes Dandelion on a daunting adventure with a strange silhouette of a person.  The journey was off the rails; no supports and certainly no assistance from the peculiar beasts they find along the way.





	1. Dune

**Author's Note:**

> This work of fanfiction is based off The Witcher. If you want a front row seat of my stories, you can check out my Tumblr here: https://thealfanator.tumblr.com/  
> This is where I post my work first, so if you're eager to read, you can source them there!  
> Please enjoy.

So I sat there like a fool, staring into the slight bursts and fizzles at the bottom of my mug. Tiny explosions spat back at me like a wild cat. For what seemed like sheer boredom, I shook the drizzle contents around and around, watching and listening more to the liquid whistling to me. Sighing, I slowly put down the cup and looked around the tavern; gazing at the dancing women and playing bands. I tried to hide my dorky, stupid smile at the same time as my slapped my eyes away from the various pairs of tits. I cleared my throat.

“Dandelion!” she called me from the end of the table. She startled me like I’d startle myself from the middle of a silent night – in a cold sweat from too many nightmares. Nightmares such as: “what’ll happen when I run out of ideas for my stories” or “what if I run out of women” or maybe even “what if mead and ale go extinct”. I chuckled at my stupidity before I realised she was still standing there with her hand out and prodding me for a refill.

“Yes.” I began. Even I noticed the slur in my voice, however it was subtle. “Mead. Again.” I handed over my tankard; for a moment I thought I threw it at her, but I heard no clash on the floor and, frankly, I couldn’t care less. My dreary, tired eyes and continuous slur of a drunk man carried me on through the night like an irresponsible father.

So there I was, alone and fiddling with my crimson tuft of clothing, wondering what I’m doing with my pointless, insignificant life. Once again my reactions were skewed and before I knew it, three commoners were sitting opposite me with wide eyes like they were huddling round a campfire. “What do you want?” I said in an accidently rude way. I immediately apologised and greeted them with a smile as if I’d just splashed cold water on my face.

“Are you… Master Dandelion? The one who made the Chameleon?” the woman stuttered in an anxious tone. I permitted her fits of laughter with a nod and smiled again. The other two men stared excitedly too and I slapped them a nod with my hat. “Can you tell us one of your stories?” She asked. Suddenly and almost without my consent, my back stood straight – proud and ready for storytelling. The slur in my voice vanished and my eyes became brighter.

“Well! As you asked, of course! Gladly! I’ll tell you the story about this time when I met a loyal friend…”

***

I was wandering on horseback through a fairly green place. Plants everywhere, overgrown foliage. There were canvases of embedded greenery which felt almost carefully or strategically placed for view. The whole area seemed like a painting – and it was pleasant! Splodges of trickling streams echoed around corners and atop rocks. Trees stood so high you couldn’t even see the Sun! Fungus and moss hung down and complemented the ivy curtains of the forest. I actually developed a habit for stopping and sucking in the peaceful, fruity air into my nostrils whilst also trying not to choke on the annoying little fly things I came across (to which I waved them away with my hat). I’m sure that you’re not surprised that I also had a bunch of papers and journals stuffed under my armpit. Chasms of knowledge cramped in my safe haven! Anyway, I’m getting off task. I trotted along with my horse until I came to an equally overgrown, tiny and abandoned village. I didn’t mean to go there; I simply needed to pass through there to get to another place (to deliver those papers I talked about). But, as you obviously thought, Curiosity got the better of me. I dismounted and took tiny steps through the silence whilst clutching my papers. I suppose they were my defence because I was certainly no swordsman! I came to a door which was half ajar and, since I thought it was empty, I pushed it slightly to conjure various screams from the hinges. Before I entered, I subconsciously threw a few, short nervous breaths into the building like entering letters through a small slit of a door.  
Now, I know what you’re thinking: “Master Dandelion is nervous and cowardly.” I am not a nervous person! In fact, I’m probably the bravest person you know; I was just taking precautions because I’m a sensible human being! Next thing I knew however, my caution was chucked down the drain as I sensed a random force at the back of my head as darkness greeted me to the floor.

***

Ow. That was the first thing I said when I awoke. My first thoughts consisted of multiple “Where the fuck am I?”s. The next thoughts were that I realised my ankles were bound to the ceiling and other bloody sacks full of body parts were also on the ceiling with me. It didn’t take long before blood was throbbing through my head and I immediately started feeling queasy. I looked around. Blood painted the walls followed by flies jumping around in enjoyment at the stench. As I’ve said, the blood-bursting sacks reeked. I tried to plaster my nose with the palms of my bound hands to cover the awful smell but my urge to gag did not deflate. I struggled, making grunting noises as I flailed to uncuff myself from the tiny, wooden shack in the middle of nowhere.

Then I realised it wasn’t me that was grunting. I heard something through the slit of the ajar door on the other side of the room. I figured out by now that that must’ve lead to the outside. Anywhere was better than this fucking place. Ceasing my efforts, I listened hard. I heard exactly what I thought I heard: grunts of a large, inhuman beast coming from outside this room. It sounded gigantic as every time the noises stopped, the earth would vibrate like it was taking a large, gulping step. Outbursts of fiery anticipations made by this fascinating unknown sent shivers up my spine! I almost wished I had my journals to write about this…

“Hello?” I wailed nervously, “Is anyone there?” I knew it was wrong – calling for help at something which was obviously a threat – but I’m the stupid bard Dandelion who knew nothing better than the calligraphy at the beginning of words. As you know now (and unfortunately for me), the snorts of curiosity pulled me into this thing even though I knew it was dangerous.

“Shut it!” came an anonymous whisper from behind me.

“Hello?” I called, surprised. “Please, help me! My crimson suit will get horribly ruined…”

“Shut the fuck up.” I heard footsteps crawl around the outside of the building on the patchy, wet mud that I presumed was there. Suddenly, the creature I had been familiar with once before made groans of agony after clashes of sword smacked rocky substance. I tried wiggling out of my prison again, but the ropes denied me once more. I heard wailing, like a stray animal, but I couldn’t tell which one it was; the human or the beast. Moments of silence pass.

Suddenly the door smashed open, flooding light and making me sneeze uncontrollably.

“Sorry. I have terrible allergies to sudden changes in atmosphere!” I apologised. The whispering “shut it” man didn’t reply but did rip off my ties that bound me upside down – to which I thanked him profusely. I tried to shake his hands but he barged past me, sheathing his sword heading outside.

“Get on the horse.” He said in a gravelly voice. We both travelled on the same, brown horse into the green forest once again. I’m just happy I got out of that blood-painted cell!

***

On the way to my unknown destination, I took a deeper look at my saviour. Muscly. He was muscly, and very strong. He wore no shirt, so his bulky arms and large chest blazed in the Sun. I traced my eyes down his back (as I rode behind him), and followed his scars like a trail. He only had one sword; evidently not a Witcher, unfortunately. However this was an interesting tale, and he was a soon-to-be ally I didn’t know I had at the time… He wore trousers (thankfully!) but they were incredibly worn down. He had a thick brown beard, little head-hair, and, from my experience, a deep and quaking voice. My conclusions led me to believe that he was a warrior. Simple minded – and uses the sword to make decisions.

We reached a clearing. A small patch of dry grass surrounded by boulders. It looked enclosed; that’s what he thought too. The horse came to a stop.

“So? Mind telling me your name?” I asked. He replied with a punch to my stomach and rapid binding to my wrists with tough leather. He then used the bottom of his boot to kick me to the ground. “Brilliant!” I coughed, “That’s a great start.”

“You don’t talk unless I tell you to.” He roared. I opened my mouth again to bribe him but I decided against it. He, ignoring me of course, started doing his own thing! Tucking into his satchel and withdrawing weapons and sharp tools. He tried his very best to just simply ignore me – when he wasn’t swatting away the flies which jabbed his sweaty forehead – but ended up giving me a monologue.

“The creature will be here very soon.” He growled whilst fiddling with the tip of his shiny sword. I kept my extremely misbehaved vocal chords shut. “We need to prepare.” But then he stopped and seemed to think about what he said. “I need to prepare.” He corrected. Satisfied that he was all ready for the fight, he wrapped me around a dense tree with reassured ropes.

“Look, I know you don’t trust me…” I began. “but I’m just a mere bard! I’m not gonna attack you or… anything.” He wasn’t listening. I sighed before prodding a leaf with my shoe, but also trying to not get my suit dirty. I looked at myself and decided it was already too late. You couldn’t even see the crimson if you tried.

I then heard it roar. The massive rocky giant came out from within the trees and shook me terrified with a gaze alone. I’m sure Geralt had told me that this was a rock troll, but I fear I might have been mistaken (mainly because I wasn’t really listening). It had a thick, rock-like exterior with a face of what seemed like a hundred mangled tongues glued together into a skull shape. Oozes of blood protruded between the cracks between its skin when it walked but it looked comfortable with that; as if it was used to pain. It walked slowly and rhythmically. My captor and my saviour drew his sword as I wiggled my way around the ropes across my chest – looking for a loose end to squirm out of and help him. He, throbbing with adrenaline, started to jab the creature but I wasn’t really paying attention to that. I heard them battle whilst I fiddled with the ropes once again, and again and again. After what seemed like centuries, I broke through and stood up; looking at the fighting man. To my fright, he was already bleeding on the forest floor. But so was the creature. It moaned up against a tree however it had started developing a plan to get back up again and finish us both. To my saviour’s protest, I swiftly grabbed his bloody sword from the mud and threw it like a spear to the eye of the troll. It immediately flopped, the life weeping from it. It made a final, depressive shout before leaving the world and gifting us silence.

“Dandelion.” I said, “my name is Dandelion.” I swiftly offered him a hand up from the ground. Hoping he’d hurry up because the cuts I’d developed before were hurting, I smiled and chuckled a bit. Reluctantly, he agreed and I helped him up whilst he clutched his wound.

“Dune. Guess the feeling’s mutual.”

***

So, my new ally, Dune, and I huddled ourselves around the campfire we made that evening; dressing our wounds and eating from the supply of food which he kindly offered me. I sighed.

“What brings you here?” he asked. I thought about it for a while and realised my initial goal – to deliver some papers – had officially gone out the window.

“Nothing much I guess.” I replied, “It’s kind of been a long day, mostly forgotten…”

“Tell me about it.” He chuckled before launching himself at a chicken wing and then sucking his fingers to detach the grease. “Look… Dandelion, you’re welcome to tag along with me for a little while,” he smiled warmly, “I’ll keep you safe. I mean, I don’t see you as the adventuring type – so I can’t imagine you making it back to wherever you need to go in one piece.” I smiled again. I didn’t even need to say ‘thank you’ because he could sense it as my eyes lit up. I nodded. Then he continued after getting up and packing his bag. “We better get moving. Here, we can travel on horseback to the nearest village and get ourselves organised.”

***

They looked like they’d gone to sleep, tankards in hand. I finished the first part of my tale (to which I needed a good few top ups of ale), so I was pretty knackered too, but I pushed their floppy arms away and left them at the table – dozing until the morning. I thought it would be best to sober up for now, then I will happily return to the inn to tell another story.


	2. Village

“Hi! I’m back again!” I stuttered as I stumbled back into the tavern, the strong smell of ale whacking me so strong it felt like a thousand hammers. I immediately gravitated myself to the nearest table and called for a tankard-full. The same people who I’d met last time – the trio of listeners – sat eagerly opposite me, as if they knew exactly when I’d come at the exact time and exact place… bit creepy to be honest! Anyway, soon as my heavy, cold cup of sweet taste came, I took a large gulp and cleared my throat. I then grinned at them without fully realising it. After I finally got settled in and layered my parchments of scribbled notes over the table, I felt like I’d run a marathon! It had only just occurred to me that I was actually out of breath from all the rushing around Novigrad; It was finally catching up to me. I took the brief opportunity to recollect my posture. Despite all the noise and bustle and chatter coming from the entire building, I felt like the centre of attention; it was probably the six eyes stuck to me waiting for a response making me feel ‘in the spotlight’. For a moment, I had pictured myself in my mind, and imagining that my cheeks had matched the colour of my suit as a reminder of my slight embarrassment.

“Well then!” I began, “time to continue the story?”

***

So, where was I? Ah, yes: Dune and I were travelling to the nearest village to repair our bruises and collect some supplies for the journey ahead. It had felt like we were moving on horseback for a decade as my falling eyelids were trying to remind me! Along the way, we spotted a stray and lonely horse tied to a tree. Poor thing, I thought; let it go, but no – Dune went ahead and stole it anyway so we both had a horse each. I was hesitant to say that somebody owned that horse, but I didn’t want to get on his bad side so I resisted. I guess being heartless is beneficial sometimes! At least I can’t smell him from here (that always helps!)

“So, what’s your story?” he asked me.

“Me?” I looked shocked, “I’m just a simple bard lost in a clutter of wilderness with no sense of direction, nothing more!”

“I mean what’s your story, I’m curious.” He continued. Fair enough, I thought. He seemed genuinely interested. I was starting to like this man.

“Well I received my early education at a temple school…”

***

“And at nineteen, I started writing poetry.” I finished a few hours later. I yawned as if it was a silent cry of boredom. I think Dune was feeling the same, and was surprised that he hadn’t fallen asleep.

We reached a village. I didn’t recall the name of the town for some odd reason. Perhaps I was too tired to bother with it, and I just saw a blurry wooden post with jumbles of unrecognisable letters. However, I did notice the fantastic ambience of the village! Mother Nature had clearly taken its toll; it was bustling with inhabitants: cooking, cleaning, sharpening swords. It was a natural beauty, and reminded me of the villages in Velen except this village looked untouched from the poverty and monster presence. It was truly breath-taking. I stopped for a moment and took it all in. Curtains of life layered the exterior walls of wooden shacks. Lovely women who smelt of a (too familiar) alcoholic beverage. Chatters echoed throughout the town, constantly reminding us that it was peaceful here.

Dune led me to a tavern and as we went inside, we noticed the cosiness and warmth that was present. A fire clearly echoed somewhere; the smell of ale also greeting me beautifully. We engaged the counter.

“Bread. Water.” Dune ordered as he smacked down a purse full of gold Orens, I presume. The lady up the counter eyed us almost nervously and, as I peered over Dune’s shoulder, I noticed an element of anxiousness as she shook her arm to underneath the counter and to a place out of our view. For a village this beautiful and tranquil, it felt like a volcano about to burst…

I bloody called it! That’s what I thought to myself as I whimpered in fear as about ten of the bystanders in the tavern suddenly whipped out swords for our necks and ropes for our arms.

“Shit.” I heard my ally whisper under his breath. They ran at us like ants. We didn’t even put up a fight. I tried relentlessly to stop the man behind me from tying my wrists, but to no avail. I stared back at the woman again, palm over her shocked mouth, and shot her evil eyes. I stood there shaking, afraid of the blade at my throat.

“Take them to the cellar!” the man behind me shouted; I could smell his corpse-riddled breath from here, “And take the crimson man’s hat – he doesn’t look good in it anyway.”

I could really spit on his boots right now.

***

Inside the rotten cellar, Dune and I were both tied to a pole each on opposite ends of the room. To me, it felt like we were suffocating as the stench flooded the room; there was no good source of clean air. Flies zoomed their way around our faces for quite some time and I couldn’t use my arms to wave them away. A dimly lit torch which lie limp on the cold, stone floor was the only way for me to see my almost faceless ally from the other end of the darkness.

“Well, shit.” I said. There was no one else except for us two, which I was thankful for. There’s nothing worse than someone gazing down the back of your neck whilst being nothing you can do about it. Unfortunately, I am familiar with ropes at my wrists as I sighed again. Dune scoffed and tried to wiggle out of his bounds. I sensed that he wasn’t used to being restrained; I noticed a tiny drop of panic about him. I looked around the room – somewhat straining my neck to positions I never knew existed just to look for a way out of this terrible room!

“We gotta find a way out of here.” Dune growled in his usual deep voice. He coughed at the air.

“I’m trying!” 

After a while, I gave up. “Dune.” I said as his exhausted head rose slightly, “Why did you trust me so quickly?” I had to ask the question; I was curious, and curiosity always gets the better of me.

“Not now, Dandelion.” I was tired of people dismissing my remarks, but he was right. We had more pressing issues.

Now I guess you’re wondering how I got out of this mess. Well, it was oddly convenient that I found a glass shard from what looked like remains of a bottle just within reach of my grasp! That’s what allowed us to escape so swiftly. The lesson I learnt from this (after lots of thought, of course) was that alcohol is always there to save you! When we surfaced to the clean dusky air, I sent a prayer then laughed to myself.

“Shh” Dune called. We both crouched after I had regained my surroundings. I looked at Dune. Whilst I simply wanted to escape (and to gather my trusty hat), he had fury on his face. He wanted revenge. Carefully, he snuck through the outside of the village – thankful that it wasn’t too over guarded – and looked for… what were we doing? The entrance was right here! There was no reinforced wall around the village; we could just leave. What was Dune doing? After some walking around, we came across our first and last enemy encounter. Dune, without thought, withdrew the blade from the guard’s pocket and swiftly held it against his throat. He was terrified and I could feel the guy’s innocence. I’m not sure which I was more frightened of: Dune’s heartlessness, or the fact that I didn’t realise his brutality.

“Let’s go.” Dune ushered whilst still fumbling with the hostage. We found our way to the, once again, unguarded stables and found our horses. Dune was already ready to go, with the hostage still in his grasp. I was about to get on the horse when I saw it. How could I forget? My hat! It was slung in some mud in the dead centre of the village, next to a well. I had to get it. “No!” Dune whispered, “Let’s go!” I failed to listen to him of course and, damn my clumsiness, fell right into the trap. Just like bandits, the inhabitants rushed out from houses towards me. I almost shit myself, I’m not going to lie, but I grabbed my hat and rushed to the horse. Before anyone could say anything, we were out of there; galloping at incredible speed and losing them in the dense forest.

***

We waited and I watched him. The innocent man who we stole from the village. Dirt and uncleanliness layered his skin. Stutters of panic took over him. First, we bound him and then we waited until morning – just to be sure the rest of the town had lost our trail. I say “we” carefully because I was shocked at Dune’s heartless nature and unspeakable acts of mercilessness; just like a bandit. In truth, I didn’t want a part of all this ‘human torture’ technique. I thought I just about dozed off into sleep before the man’s squeals woke me. Before I knew it, Dune had a sharp knife against the man’s throat; it glinted in the sunlight and reflected back at me. Dune… just like a bandit. It was discomforting; watching my ally merge into a merciless beast – just like the rest.

“Where are the others?” He shouted as he pressed knife harder.

“I don’t know!” the helpless man replied. I had fidgeted on the grass to a better position as I started to get cramp in my feet. Then I stared at them like I was watching some sort of play, but this time a bit more serious.

“You know exactly what I mean! Tell me or I’ll cut your fucking throat.” As I became more nervous of the situation, the knife equally digging into his throat and revealing a small nick of blood.

“Honestly, I don’t have a clue.” He replied, more anxious than before. I felt like I was shaking more than he was – I wished for no one to get hurt and for the situation to de-escalate, but no words protruded from my mouth. A little more persuasion occurred.

“Where are my friends?” Dune continued. Turned out the hostage knew, and as he told him, he gurgled on the floor after Dune had slit his throat.

“There.” He said, “Wasn’t so hard.” He wiped the sweat from his brow. I took a big nervous gulp and I wondered if he heard it. After collecting his thoughts, Dune stared right into me. “Sorry, Dandelion, unfinished business.”

“You didn’t have to kill him!” I sounded so astonished that I thought I heard my voice break a little bit. His face darkened and I knew I had perhaps gone too far…

“I’m afraid being generous gets you nowhere in this world…” he said. As we left the area, those words still rung out to me like a hot brand would stick on skin.

After what seemed like a few days, we were both pretty knackered. After failing to gather supplies from the village, we were pretty much screwed. But we stuck with it. It was night again and we dismounted our horses to look for mushrooms which apparently embedded themselves at the bottom of tree trunks. Alright, fine, Dune is smarter than I thought – he was obviously used to surviving out here. We lit a few wooden twigs to light the path but we still had to squint to see a foot in front. Then I realised I had stepped awkwardly.

“Uh… Dune.” I coughed, “I can’t move my foot.” I heard him scoff a few steps ahead of me.

“Just move it like a normal person would.” He laughed again, “Wow I thought you were inexperienced but damn I didn’t know you struggled to walk!”

“I’m being serious!” I heard him come back to me to investigate but it was already too late. I heard a latch occur beneath my feet and before I could react, I was plummeting into the darkness and experiencing a sickening feeling of “I left my stomach up there.” I couldn’t even remember if I hit the bottom because I had already passed out. The only vivid thing I remembered was the high-pitched laughs of a creature which definitely was not human, followed by very small footsteps which retreated into silence. I didn’t hear anything after that; I was too busy drifting into darkness…

***

“That’s it, I’m afraid!” I said as I got up from my seat. Once again, my three audience members had almost collapsed from too much to drink. I laughed and nudged them as I headed to the door of the inn and retreated my way home. The cold, Novigrad night-time air hit me hard in the face but I gracefully took it into my nostrils. “Come back next week for the next part!” I wasn’t even sure they could hear me because I had already wandered away in my drunken state!


	3. Cave

I’m usually very excited when I enter inns and taverns to tell my stories of my adventures across the lands, but as I entered today, something felt… different. I had burst into The Golden Sturgeon, full of my usual over-active excitement; my crimson cuffs bouncing light off the dense, calming atmosphere, and my shoes lightly dropping and lifting gently off the creaky floorboards, and, instead of smiling (my usual signature move), I felt emptiness… Not the type of emptiness that makes you feel “oh shit, that was disappointing”, as Geralt would often say, no. This emptiness was hollow, and I think I know why.

“Dandelion! Ale?” The bartender shouted over to me. Nodding my head, she started bumbling around the place in a frantic nature – juggling mugs of hot, juicy warmth of bubble on each finger whilst rummaging around the tight spaces of each of the tables delivering her creations. She made me smile. I always liked the way she cared for people so much. But this time I did not smile. I knew exactly what it was. Something was off.

It was empty. The tavern, I mean. It was evening; the place should be packed! But it wasn’t. There was the innkeeper, a few other guys, and me… Regarding my usual trio of listeners, only one remained: the woman, who looked relatively drunk already. She sat there in a rhythmic sway to the left and right, waiting in anticipation for me to continue, however the other two had gone. Grown bored of my voice. I looked at her as she stared at me. Her fixed glare said it all; she wasn’t quite ‘with it’! Ale had dragged her away to a happier place, however remnants remained like the bottom of an empty tankard.

“Please…” she mumbled, “continue, Master Danbeloin.” She even said my name wrong.

“Okay, okay!” I said, laughing before holding up my hands in an attempt to ‘surrender’. I waited until my drink had arrived, (“thanks”, told her) and started…

***

Where was I? Ah, I remember. So when I got chucked into the darkness by a prepared metal trap, I had been rendered unconscious for quite some time. I had no passage or recollection of time, of course, but it felt like a while. As my vision grew from darkness, I groaned a cry of pain. My fingers twitched and my body ached but I managed to yank myself up from the muddy, dreadful floor. I had a fit of coughs. To my surprise, those coughs made a head pop up from the bright circular light above me. It was Dune.  
“Dandelion?” he shouted. I was pretty sure the ground vibrated at his low voice.

“Mhm.”

“I just needed to see if you were okay? I’ve been waiting for hours.” Shit, hours? I scrambled myself up onto my feet but immediately flopped back down onto a broken wooden board next to me. I crashed back down to the floor; my leg hurting bad. “Dandelion, I need you to climb your way up here!” he shouted, “See those vines?” I saw them, yes, but in this condition, I wasn’t even able to kick a tuft of grass into the air! I told him about it obviously, before hearing him sigh and move away from the hole.

“Sorry, Dune but my leg is too bad.” I murmured before looking into the darkness beside me. I gathered that I had fallen into a cave of some kind. The nothingness amplified around me, leaving me isolated and anxious.

“Well, Dandelion,” he sighed again, “I hoped it wouldn’t had come to this…”

“Come to what?” I shouted as loud as I could, despite it not being as loud as I thought. My voice wavered as the darkness plunged me into worry.

“I have to find my friends… and I don’t have enough time to save you too…” I knew I couldn’t trust him. “Dandelion, I hardly even know you.” He retreated to a whisper like this was actually a hard decision for him. I believed him, I guess – who would save a stupid, pointless bard like me, who can’t even wield a sword? I scoffed.

“You’re just going to leave me?” I replied. Silence commenced for a long time.

“I’m sorry.” Before a bunch of heavy, retreating footsteps declined into nothing. He had left me here. To die. I passed out again, head hitting the rocky surface.

After I woke again, I scrambled up to my feet before I realised my leg was still shitting itself. For some reason, I must’ve thought that sleeping would’ve made it magically heal itself, but obviously not… I took a few panicked breaths in the murky, pitch black cave I had muddled myself in before grabbing a still-lit torch out of its holder from a wall. Hopefully the trespassers who left them were still here, and that they were friendly! Walking through the rocky, uneven cave, I realised how awful and terrifying it really was. Unexpected lights and shadows conjured by my very light caused a rebound as my lip trembled at the sight of them. The smell of rotting corpses (probably) rung out like the sour sound of a fork bashing off a wad of steel. My feet took small and reckless paces ahead of me; nervous about what was in the unknown. I tried to jab my torch in front of me in hope that my vision would extend, but to my disappointment, I was still limited to my tiny circle of light.

I tried everything, I really did. I called for help, I tried names such as “Dune” even though it was pointless. I tried shouting as loud as possible but swiftly stopped as my hope diminished as fast as the interest fades away from bard’s stories in the evenings. Whenever I wasn’t calling for aid, I was coughing the blackness away from my lungs and crying out as my knee started to throb.

Then I saw it. The monstrosity. I had reached a part of the cave which ended at a sort of cliff, and then expanded to a large room below me. The area was well lit below with multiple sources of light dotting around the pit. I bent down onto my good knee and squinted down. I saw tens of creatures skittering around the place like ants! Small, tiny grey looking disasters scuttling their minute legs and making small chittering noises with their laugh. I think Geralt called them… Nekkers; crawling sounds commenced in my ears like metal scrapes on wood. While I was busy absorbed in my horror, my light next to me flickered, but not kindly, fading now – like dying hope. I retreated from the edge further after I came to realisation that my heart was throbbing through my chest, pulsing my panic. It wasn’t until they noticed my movement that I started to limp as quick as possible the way I came.

I frantically waved my torch towards them in some tiny ounce of hope that it would scare them away, but it seemed they did not care. I threw my torch away at them as they swarmed the corridor. I turned and ran for my life.

***

“Did you survive?” she said to me in an interested tone on the other side of the table. I scoffed after taking a sip from my tankard, then proceeded.

“No, dear, I died!” she sighed and bowed her head - started sobbing slowly as she flopped her empty mug to the floor.

“Dammit,” she whispered, “I really hoped you lived to tell the tale…” I couldn’t help but smile.

“Listen, darling, of course I survived! I’m sitting here, aren’t I?” A couple of awkward glares filled the space between us before her drunken state realised before she laughed. Launching herself at me for a hug, I shut my eyes and savoured the moment.

“Dandelion!” she said after I detached her body from myself, “You are the greatest storyteller I have ever met!”

“Why, thank you.” I gleamed. She continued to slur her words and fling her drunken finger at my chest in enthusiasm. “Shall we continue, then?”

“Please!” she dipped her head with tired eyes but I knew I had her complete attention.

***

So there I was: limping and running through the cave with a bunch of terrifying monstrosities after me. I weaved and dived through the tiny cracks I came across and, as I glanced back from time to time, was surprised that I was creating space between us. My breath started to fade and I collected the fact that I probably couldn’t run much longer.

“Come on! In here!” someone called from down the hall. Squinting, I recognised a dark figure crouching behind a tiny gap in a rocky surface, ushering me into presumed safety. Well, I had to take it, didn’t I? I rushed into the gap and the man blocked up my entrance behind me with a bundle of large rocks, relieving me of my oxygen debt and stopping the “Nekkers” from their pursuit. The man was bald, slim and had an extremely small figure, but he carried a crossbow latched to his back. He gave me a welcoming smile.

“Hello again, Dandelion.” Another said; I recognised the voice… I spun around behind me to where it came from and saw him alongside about four other people which I had not seen before. Dune. “I brought friends.”

In the cold, evening air above the surface, one of his men tended to my wounds. The crackling fire lit our cheerful faces and cooked our mouth-watering food. Animals called and cried in the distance; big and small; predators and prey; up in trees, or hunting on the ground. It was peaceful – a feeling I hadn’t felt in a long time.

“You honestly thought I just up and left.” He said whilst munching into a piece of meat. I thought about it for a bit.

“Well you kind of did.” I replied. Dune chuckled.

“Dandelion,” he said, “I look at you and I see a helpless, wandering bard in the middle of nowhere. You’re meant to be in taverns, entertaining! I will help you get home.”

“Thank you.” I looked around at his allies. I knew none of them but I owed them my life. By their facial expressions, I reckon they noticed I thanked them profusely; they noticed it in my tired eyes.

“Well.” He stood, sweat appearing on his exhausted face. “When you’ve recovered a bit from your injury, I say we head out and get you home. What do you say?”

“That sounds like a good plan!” I smiled and he did the same, then bit down into my food.

That conversation stayed with me to this day, even when heading back home this evening – through the dull Novigrad city streets.


	4. Dandelion's Tales

“So, Master Dandelion, what’s your favourite food?” Dune was sitting on his horse as we trudged through the open forest, the gentle breeze flowing past our shoulders. We all had our individual horses – mine was brown. I gathered a connection with it; I always thought horses were incredible animals, however it was a bit jolty, I’ll give it that! It would always spontaneously jump over logs instead of strolling around them like a normal animal! Maybe that was just my awful attempt at steering the thing… anyway, I had finished gazing at the trees and the vines (and the leaves fluttering in the still air slowly to the ground) when he asked me that question. I adjusted my bottom on my saddle and thought about it for a while. I must’ve built up so much anticipation that everyone else grew silent, and only the curious noises of the forest broke it.

“Well,” I began, “I could never say no to a bit of cow meat and veg! Oh, and with a bit of fish on the side.” Before I knew it, the ‘crew’ were cringing and making strange agony-like noises at the thought of it. “What? It isn’t that bad!”

“It really is!” Dune scoffed, “sounds horrible!”

“Just try it. It’s nice, I swear!” I had already shaken my head a thousand times by now in denial that my favourite meal was detested by the whole group. Laughing it off, I glared back into the distance. The sunlight pouring through the remnants that hung off the tree branches, and the trees emitting a glorious scent made me breathe in and out slowly several times in tranquillity without me even realising it. I smiled to myself (making sure nobody else saw); it truly was a tremendous view.

“Okay, Dandelion,” one of Dune’s allies requested, “Tell me what sort of stories and plays you write. I’m curious.”

The conversation went on for quite some time. Giggles and pleasant sighs broke it up in between, whilst the background noises of bugs and insects padded our excited voices. However, everything suddenly stopped when we thought we heard footsteps. We shrugged it off at first, but we then heard twigs breaking. We stopped and looked around whilst silence engulfed us all like the calm before a storm.

“Do you hear that?” one of us said. Looking around, we saw nothing out of the ordinary, until thousands of explosions broke the silence. Not literal explosions, but about a dozen legs bombarded us from all around, circling us and attacking on sight. Bandits. They ran at us with spears and swords. Dune and his mates drew their swords whilst I, amidst the blaze, found a clear path to retreat away from the event. I panted heavily as I ducked behind a tree stump and watched a few metres away to where the battle was commencing. I swore to myself – some would call me a coward, and I would agree, but I saw my window of opportunity and I took it; I wasn’t a swordsman anyway. I watched in horror as the men I was casually talking to before died with swords through their throats. Not long after, everyone had fallen except Dune who had dropped his faithful sword and had his hands behind his head. He darted his eyes around the area – presumably looking for me – but he did not see me (I did retreat quite a distance after all). Whilst Dune was being carried into a barred cart with two horses supported at the front, I had stood atop the trunk and used a swinging rope which hung from the branch above me to support my stance.

One of the bandits locked Dune up before dangling the keys back to his belt. They were all fumbling around; the cart wasn’t moving yet. Most of them had retreated into the woods and only four or five of them remained, guarding it. I had to get on that cart.

I had an idea. I gathered the rope from the tree which I was clinging on to, and used it to silently hook on to another which perfectly positioned itself between me and the cart. Inhaling and exhaling slowly in an attempt to dissipate my anxiousness, I lifted my feet from the ground and swung. The air gave me no support and, as a result of my extremely heavy and unfit body, thought I was just going to flop to the floor and give my location away; but no, I managed to just reach the corner of the object and land flat onto it to stealth my way from the views of the bandits. Luckily, the cart platform was relatively large and managed to cover my entire body from the glares of others. I was almost certain they could hear my panicked, thumping heartbeat from the roof of the wooden, dry cart. We were moving. With Dune below me and bandits glued around the vehicle, I had no choice but to keep my position and wait for an opportunity. The horse hooves clattered like thunder… I embraced silence as much as possible.

Luckily, the journey to wherever was short and the cramps in my legs only lingered for a few minutes. We had reached a large fortress – big, ominous, well-fortified and crawling with soldiers; or “bandits”. By now, the cart wheels had stopped and the men surveying it had been drawn to the open gates of the area. Now was my chance. Using the grip on my knees, I shuffled backwards and onto the floor. The back of the cart was where the entrance to Dune’s cage was and, luckily, the only side of it which was unguarded. I cautiously stared at Dune through the murky, muck glazed bars and was about to speak until he revealed a silent gesture – a “shh” and a finger pointing to my left. With a nervous look, I cranked my neck in that direction. A man, just like the others, with his back turned. Cursing silently, I stood there like a stump, drops of sweat appearing like rain drops as adrenaline throbbed within me. I peeked around the cart seeing that there was no-one in view before doing something I wish I never had to do…

My arms were already around the guy’s throat just before his weapon had thumped softly to the ground. He struggled, as I expected, thoroughly and I had to use every ounce of power to bring him into unconsciousness. I’m pretty sure I hated this more than he did. Hearing his desperate squirms under my arm, I wanted to let go. He stopped eventually; his struggles fading harmlessly as I let out a huge sigh of relief.

“Pst.” He called, wasting no time. I rushed to Dune immediately as I realised time was of the essence. “You’ve got to get me out of here. Use this.” He seemed oddly calm – he must be used to this. I didn’t have much time to think though before he gave me a metallic stripe which I presume was supposed to be a lock pick.

I had already shoved it in the lock and he was already throwing out instructions on how to use the thing. The lock danced around my fingers in an attempt to escape my grasp. Shit. I heard shouts coming from the fortress and, peeking around, I could see they were retreating back to this cart. I swore again.

“Don’t look at them. Stay calm.” Dune was whispering. I couldn’t do it. I really couldn’t do it. Sweat poured down me, the lock fumbled around my hands more times as their footsteps grew louder…

They saw the body first; his feet dangling out and into their vision. There were four of them. Four men and one hopeless bard. I heard their suspicious screams: “There’s a man down.” Etcetera… One of them gave me no time and immediately dashed around the corner and spotted me. I jumped in panic as the others gathered around me, their faces as shocked as mine. They were about to swipe me with their drawn swords before the device in my hand clicked loudly and hammered into the mud below. Everyone sensed an awkward pause before I was knocked to my feet as Dune swept out of his imprisonment and killed them all in an instant; ret skittering like drops of water as all of the soldiers spat blood at us; the bodies dampening to still corpses on the muddy ground.

“Holy shit. Thanks.” I muttered whilst my backside was still sunken in the mud.

“Don’t mention it.” Dune replied, offering his bloodied hand to my aid. Swiftly accepting, I stood up, brushed the dirt off my worn and shitty clothing and looked around for signs of more bandits. “We’re not out of the woods yet, Mister Dandelion!” He ushered me to crouch down behind the cart as more bandits glanced our way. Luckily, Dune had already moved the corpses to behind the object so nobody could see the incident if they tried.

“Okay,” I panted, “what now?”

“Well we’d get spotted if we made a run for the woods; trust me, they’re crawling with ‘em.” He sighed the biggest sigh I think I’d ever heard – relieving his frustration into his large exhale. He then followed it with a combination of curse words. “We need to infiltrate the camp.” What? I dropped my jaw without realising it and almost passed out at the remark! Afterwards, I swiftly turned away in hope that he didn’t notice. Peeking back with caution, I sighed relief as he was too busy playing with the tip of his mangled, slightly sweaty beard and planning our next moves with his cold, determined eyes to notice my shocked expression. “I noticed that.” Dune said carefully without taking his gaze off the fortress. Shit.

“How the hell are we going to get away from this place if we go into it?” I questioned his absurd ideas before adjusting my stance.

“Just trust me.”

***

I followed his lead as we crept through the foliage of the woods, heading closer and closer to the bare and unguarded wall in front of us. Every now and then I’d notice Dune frantically look left and right for the careful, strategical search for our enemies. Frequently, I noticed us ducking into a prone position to avoid their glares over the forest floor. As we reached the bland, grey fortress wall (to the left of the main gates), Dune noticed a convenient break at the bottom – a tiny hole which looked just small enough to fit through. I gawped at the back of his head.

“We’re not seriously considering that?” I whispered but raised my voice a little to try and sound angry. “I don’t want to get my clothes dirty!” Dune looked around and spat me a thin smile.

“They’re already filthy; come on.” We swiftly passed through the gap (I had to breathe in a bit; too many pies I reckon) and we were through.

After lots of really frightening sneaking through the heavily guarded fortress, we found ourselves in a creaky, large warehouse. Shelves littered everywhere with small, cramped pathways and dusty, black vision and atmosphere. I had to force myself not to cough and splatter the moment we entered! Dune ended up convincing me that these places were good because there are lots of places to hide. Not quite believing how we’d made it this far, I prayed for our luck to stay before immediately quitting as Dune gave me a strange confused look beside me.

“Sorry.” I admitted. He ignored me and patted me silent like you would pat an unexpected fire out with your boot. Someone was coming from behind the shelf we were sheltered behind.

“Come on! They are here somewhere!” he said, definitely walking this way. Shit, they must’ve found the bodies. We both thought it wasn’t too bad – one person – until we jinxed ourselves as another guard made their way beside the first – out of nowhere! Dune snatched a sharp weapon from his boot whilst I scrambled to find a metal bar to ready myself with.

It all ended very fast. One corpse down with a mouth full of blood and another with a massive bruise on his forehead lie side by side. I hardly had time to react before Dune slit the other guy’s throat.

“You didn’t have to kill him.” I whispered again, “we’d be long gone before he woke up.” He went on to argue that ‘one less bandit makes the world better’. I couldn’t fight against his logic, but I’m not sure I completely agreed with him.

We made our way through the building – up ladders and shelves and onto the bare, roof where all eyes suddenly became drawn to us before tens of swords unsheathed from their holders. I then realised what Dune was doing.

“Gimme that rope!” He said. I didn’t even touch it before he retrieved it himself from my belt. The bandits were running now from the floor and into the warehouse. We didn’t have much time. By now, we had reached the back of the fortress which, behind the wall, would be forest so thick we could lose them easily, even with them chasing us. I hoped anyway as I wasn’t the fastest runner. He used the rope and flung it towards the nearest wall edge, hooking it to a sturdy material that stuck out of it. “Come on!” he said just before he jumped off the warehouse roof and climbed up the wall and over. I alone now stood on the wooden surface which felt like it was going to collapse any second. My anxiousness travelled down my nerves in my bottom half and I couldn’t feel my legs. Wielded soldiers now started appearing from hatches in the roof and I would be swarmed extremely quickly! I stood there helplessly like a helpless man without a sword would...

As I flung through the air, I grasped at the rope and fell a good way down before I truly fixed my grip on it. My fingers flared from the burn and I let out a wail of pain, but I had little choice but continue. I clenched my teeth through the pain and pulled my body up and over the wall; my body throbbing a hundred agonies in an attempt to stop my progress. I couldn’t stop now. I stopped to see that Dune had already recovered and gathered a horse for us to escape with. I jumped down the deep and terrifying ledge and onto the soft, grass riddled ground and, with a sharp twinge, fell awkwardly to the ground. Next to me (whilst I was fiddling with my twisted ankle), Dune grabbed me and hulked my useless body to the saddle. Hurting more and more, we were away, and the shouts of our attackers faded peacefully.

***

He dropped me off outside the Novigrad gates, just inside the Farcorners, and led the horse we had just claimed to one side. It gazed peacefully at the rippling water just off the bridge. I retreated to a limp as I crawled across the cobblestone pathway. He supported me just before I felt myself falling…

“Woah, Master Dandelion. Too much?” he asked, “rather not risk your life and rather stick to playing in taverns?” he smiled in an almost mocking tone as he supported my posture. I knew he was joking of course. I sighed amidst the mild crowd of people that mingled around us; jostling around the city with errands to run.

“Thank you so much, Dune. I mean it. I don’t have anything to offer you in return…” I trailed off.

“Please, it’s my pleasure to get you to safety. I see a flickering flame within you, I really do.” He stared out into the distance and sighed again, the Sun dancing off his forehead, “but that flame will grow big and triumphant. You really are something special – you are unique.” He stared back at me again and smiled, true this time – not a jest or a tease, a true, meaningful smile. “But I’m afraid I must leave you now. I have people to see, things to do…” His face melted into sadness, his eyelids dangling low. I wondered if my expressions conveyed the same.

“Can’t I come with you? I kinda liked the adrenaline.” I didn’t. I don’t think I did. He was right, I enjoyed my times within the safety of the warm walls of taverns, but I had grown a strong bond with my ally and wanted one more trip around places I had never visited. Maybe, one day, I could write about the times I explored around tropical, eventful and dangerous places with Dune: my faithful ally and protector… However, maybe I was being stupid.

“No. I’m sorry. My only mission was to get you to where you belong.” He pointed his open palm to the city walls of Novigrad. He swivelled my shoulders round to look at him again. “Goodbye, Dandelion.” Then he left and I watched his disappearing silhouette fade into the distance.


	5. Epilogue

I entered the tavern that night. The night after I told my story about my adventure with Dune, my ally, however nobody was there with me. You know how I said there had been three people; two men and a woman. Slowly, they disappeared until only the one remained… and now, no-one. I had burst through the doors – eager to tell another story (no surprise there, then?) but nobody. My grin slid off my face in surprise that all that was left was the few, uninterested drunk men and the bartender, who was tinkering with dirty mugs and tankards. I took a sigh and a moment of figuring out what to do next before ordering a ‘Fiorano’ then exiting after I gulped it down in an impressively short period of time!

I felt an essence of loneliness on the way back to the Chameleon like a void of nothing. Nobody there for me to express my creations or my feelings; no one to bore to sleep. It all felt a bit strange. Oh well, I thought: I’ll go to another tavern! I’m sure I can find one somewhere, then tell another story, but (you know how it can feel sometimes) I was just left with a disappointing “what now?” you know?

I slowly creaked open the door to the Chameleon. Bustles of energy filled the room and almost blasted me off my feet! The music, the women; it never failed to lift the mood. I kept my head down, took off my hat and headed for the stairs at the back of the room.

“Hi, Dandelion,” Zoltan said, “what’s up with you? You’re usually dancing off the back of your ass with excitement!” I couldn’t help but giggle a little bit before fumbling my words until something made sense to say out loud.

“Nothing, just a bit underwhelmed.” I didn’t know what I felt to be honest – anyway, I’ve rambled enough about my feelings. I creaked up the stairs, one by one, until I reached my room, where a deafening silence pulled me in. I took off my shoes and just sat there with my eyes closed for a bit – relishing the peace and quiet and sighing at my failed event at the Sturgeon tonight.

It took quite a while until I noticed the peculiar letter by my desk, shining in the candlelight. Yanking my body from its relaxed position, I walked over and unfolded the seal. This is what it said:

_Dear Master Dandelion,_  
Meet at the Farcorners bridge at midnight tomorrow. You won’t be disappointed. I have something I want to show you. Don’t worry, I’ve brought the horse! You won’t need to bring anyone with you – just you and me. I look forward to it. Oh, and don’t fall into any caves on the way there!  
\- D 

I couldn’t get to sleep that night. My excitement stirred with the butterflies in my stomach and kept me awake. Oh and I couldn’t wipe the smile off my face as I lie in bed dreaming about what amazing journeys awaited us.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading this series, Dandelion's Tales. Remember, you can visit my Tumblr page, https://thealfanator.tumblr.com/ , where you can check out some of my other pieces of fanfiction, as well as here, A03, where they are uploaded too. However, I upload work first to Tumblr, so it's definitely the place to go if you want to read more!
> 
> If you want to leave me feedback, please go to my Tumblr and message me. I don't know how to use AO3 very well, so it's more likely that I'll respond there.  
> Have a good day :)


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